The Letter
by Chisis
Summary: I have always wanted my own kind of adventure..." Syaoran's thoughts.


Disclaimer: I do not own this characters

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"I have always wanted my own kind of adventure. It's weird, yet whenever I traveled with my father I knew something amazing was happening to him. He was always so happy, so grateful to be living life and enjoying every minute of it, even when he was worrying about me.

I guess I should clarify; when Fujitaka first met me, I didn't know how to speak very well. Of course, I knew how to talk, but anything that could be really considered an actual conversation was just out of my reach for three months. I also didn't know how to do simple things, my eye constantly messed me up. I burnt myself so many times during those first few months.

He never gave up on me, though. I think he always thought of me as another adventure, this time in fatherhood. I've wondered why he was never married. I heard him mention rarely of a woman he had once courted when he was young, but I don't know whatever came of it, if anything. I have a feeling he never wanted me to know, despite me being his adaptive son.

And I think back on all the good times, the fun adventures, and it makes me feel...weird.

I...I don't know if this is what I wanted. This adventure. This kind of crazy ride that I'm on. It's got me by the stomach, tugging and pulling and making me want to vomit, but I can't. I can't do that, because I have to concentrate always on what's ahead, what's coming at me. I can't ever rest.

Damn, I'm tired. I never imagined how tiring an adventure can be. I wonder if father ever felt like that? He never showed that side to me. He never really had a chance to show me much of anything, I suppose. He died, leaving me with only the idealized person in my memories.

Ever notice how that happens? When someone leaves you, you tend to forget about their flaws and you always remember the good in them. But then, that's when they become fuzzy images in your head. His face is like that. I always have to look at a picture to really remember where the wrinkles and lines in his face were. I can't remember much else.

I don't want to forget anything. I may not want to remember much either. I don't know. Damn.

I wonder if I could just leave in a limbo? Somewhere where I don't have to remember or forget, where I just exist, but not really. Does that make any sense? I don't want to die, no, not that, I have too much I need to accomplish, too many people who are counting on me, but, then again, I don't want to live either. I just want to disappear for a while, not have anyone or anything to do, just...vanish.

But, people on adventures don't just vanish, do they? They always finish exactly what they have started. They don't vomit much either, for that matter.

How did those guys know when enough was enough, that they didn't need to go on any further? Was it their bodies or their minds telling them?

...I want to sleep. I sleep so much now, and at the same time so little. It's like my one escape from...everything. Sleep. Nice, calm, quiet, dark sleep. I still feel sick now and then, but at least when I put my head down on something, ground, dirt, pillow, or backpack, it's almost like vanishing. When I'm asleep, nothing comes to mind; I still matter, just not right then.

My mouth feels strange. I have a odd taste in my mouth I can't get rid of. It's like there parts of that taste that are coming up from my sick stomach, mingling on top of my tongue. It's really gross. Is that coming from feeling sick?

I can't stay for long. I'm too tired. I don't care. There is a part of me that wonders if this grand adventure is really worth it, what the hell am I doing, but then I fall asleep and I don't care anymore...

I really don't care right now...

...Kami, what a horrible person I am..."

truly, Syaoran"

The ink was barely dry on the page as Syaoran looked up from his work. It had all come out of him so fast, his hand ached from the speed at with he wrote this. The soft glow from the fire nearby danced upon the yellowed parchment. Night sounds filled the calm silence, the hoots from owls and the chirps from crickets.

"Are you all finished now?"

Syaoran looked up at Fai, nodding. "Yes. It's finished. What do I do now?"

"Well," he whistled, pointing a long finger toward the fire, "it is out of your mind now. You can either kept the letter, I'm sure Mokona has a way, or you just get rid of it." He sat down beside Syaoran, careful not to glance down at the slip of paper. "It doesn't really matter what you do with it, as long as it what you want. Writing all that down just gets it off of your chest for a little bit."

"I feel better now, after writing all of that down."

"I figured you would." The magician patted him on the back, a gesture not unlike what an uncle would do to his favorite nephew. "Sometimes a person needs an outlet. This is a bit less destructive then what Kuro-chan you have you do, but it achieves the same purpose."

"Yeah."

The fire glowed, the gentle warmth soothing Syaoran's hands and feet. The parchment lay close and with a small flick of his wrist, it flipped flopped down into the flames. After a moment, the fire licked away at the words, blackening them until everything was gone. It was a soothing release, throwing all of those words into the fire.

Syaoran felt as though the fire now knew his secrets, and he was okay with that. The contents of that letter were forever be between him and the flames of the fire. No harm was done at all, no one would know anything. It was calming to know that.

Moments later, he pulled up a blanket to his chin and closed his eyes. Tonight, at least, he would sleep well. For now, that was good enough.

Fin

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Author's note: This was originally two separate stories that both were horrible. However, combined, they managed to be acceptable for a one-shot. Thank you for reading.


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